PAIRING: Light Yagami x Bimbo reader
Beauty with no brains. cw: Emotional abuse, psychological manipulation, gaslighting, condescension, Light Yagami is a misogynistic asshole, power / toxic dynamics, forced degradation / petplay.]
A/n - This is our first log regarding the Death Note universe and plan on bringing more in the future.
The sharp, bitter smell of charred garlic and burnt sauce heavy in the air was your first warning. The loud, panicked scraping of a spatula against the pan was your second. By the time Light stepped into the kitchen, the burner was off, but the damage was done, the dinner you had spent the last hour trying to perfect was a blackened, ruined mess.
You stood over the stove, the spatula trembling in your hand, your chest heaving as the first hot tear slipped down your cheek. You were supposed to be smart; you were a university student, for heaven's sake. But the moment you got distracted by a text message, everything had gone up in smoke.
Light didn't yell. He didn't slam anything. He simply leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest, watching your quiet breakdown with an expression of cold, amused detachment.
"Well," he started, his voice smooth and entirely devoid of warmth. "I suppose expecting a peaceful, edible dinner after a long day of classes was asking a bit too much of you."
"Light, I'm sorry," you choked out, turning around to face him. The tears were free-flowing now, blurring your vision as you looked at his pristine, unimpressed figure. "I just... I looked away for one second to check my phone, and it caught so fast"
"One second?" Light let out a soft, mocking scoff, walking forward with slow, deliberate steps. He stopped right in front of you, looking down at the ruined pan, then up at your tear-stained face. He reached out, his long fingers pinching your chin, not gently, but firmly enough to force you to look at him. "Darling, it takes a special kind of incompetence to completely incinerate a basic meal in 'one second.' A mindless, daydreaming little bubblehead. That’s what you are."
You let out a small, pathetic sob, your shoulders shaking under his heavy gaze. You hated how sensitive you were, hated how his words immediately stripped away any sense of dignity you had left.
"Look at you," he crooned, his tone dropping into that soft, patronizing cadence he always used when you cried. He used his free hand to slide a stray lock of hair behind your ear, his touch suddenly smooth, contrasting the harshness of his words. "You really are entirely useless when it comes to anything practical, aren't you? It's a good thing you're so beautiful. Truly. With a face like this, people are much more willing to overlook how completely empty your head is."
"I'm not empty-headed," you whimpered, trying to pull back, but his grip on your chin tightened just enough to keep you still.
"Aren't you?" Light asked, a cold smirk playing on his lips. "You always talk about your future, your little career goals, as if a woman with your lack of focus could actually handle the real world. Honestly, I used to think you’d at least make a decent, traditional housewife one day. You’d stay home, keep the place clean, and have a hot meal waiting for me. But look at this. You can't even manage that. If you can't even handle a simple stove without burning the house down, how could you ever expect to run a proper household for a man like me? You’d be an absolute embarrassment."
The harshness of the words cut straight through you, making you hiccup against a fresh wave of tears. You felt small, entirely dependent, and completely broken down.
Seeing you reduced to a crying, trembling mess, Light’s expression finally softened into that sickeningly sweet, patronizing pity. He pulled you against his chest, wrapping his arms around your waist and dragging you out of the kitchen, letting you weep softly into his shoulder as he guided you toward the living room couch.
An hour later, the smell of the burnt dinner had finally faded from the apartment, replaced by the crisp, clean scent of Light’s cologne. You were tucked firmly against his side on the couch, the ambient glow of the television casting long shadows across the room. Your eyes were still a little red, but Light was being attentive now. His long fingers moved in slow, rhythmic strokes through your hair.
"You've finally stopped crying," Light murmured, his voice a low, melodious purr. He pressed a soft kiss to the crown of your head, his arm tightening around your waist. "Good girl. You look so much better when you aren't making a scene."
You leaned into his warmth, your fingers mindlessly clutching the fabric of his shirt. "I really am sorry about dinner, Light. I'll do better next time. I can practice"
"Shh," he cooed, a soft chuckle vibrating in his chest. He stopped your words by gently tapping the tip of your nose. "Let it go, darling. We both know practicing won't fix a fundamental lack of focus. I've already adjusted my expectations."
You bit your lip, a familiar sting pricking at the back of your eyes.
"I've been thinking about our future, actually," Light continued smoothly, his eyes focusing on the wall ahead as if visualizing a grand blueprint. "Once I graduate and take my rightful place in the National Police Agency, things will need to be structured precisely. A man in my position requires an immaculate image. You won't need to worry about a career, of course. The corporate world would chew a sensitive, fragile little thing like you alive in a week. No, you’ll stay at home. I’ll buy a beautiful house for us, and your only job will be to look exquisite when I bring guests over."
"But Light, my degree..." you whispered weakly. "I wanted to help"
"Help with what, sweetheart?" Light interrupted, his tone dripping with a sharp, condescending sweetness. He let out a sigh, treating you like a delicate, dim-witted child. "You can barely handle a basic kitchen timer. Do you truly believe you could contribute anything of value to a high-stakes professional environment? You'd only embarrass yourself. And, by extension, me."
He leaned down, pressing his lips to your forehead, his touch heavy and possessive.
"Your mind just isn't built for the real world, my love. Honestly, seeing you get so worked up over things you clearly can't comprehend... it’s almost endearing. You're so brainlessly adorable when you're confused. You’d honestly be much better off as a little puppy. No responsibilities, no thoughts in that pretty head of yours, just a loyal, pathetic little pet waiting by the door for her master."
A strange, heavy heat settled in the room at his words. The tone of his voice shifted, turning darker, thicker with a sudden, dominant intent. Light pulled away just enough to look down at you, his gaze sweeping over your flushed, tear-stained face, taking in how utterly helpless you looked beneath him.
He didn't return to stroking your hair. Instead, his hand slid down to the back of your neck, his fingers gripping you firmly, applying just enough downward pressure to force you off the couch.
"Light?" you squeaked, your knees hitting the soft carpet. You looked up at him from the floor, your heart hammering against your ribs.
Light remained seated, leaning back against the cushions, looking down his nose at you like a god examining a creature beneath his notice. He spread his knees slightly, tapping his thigh. The casual, absolute authority in his posture made your stomach twist with a dizzying mix of fear and arousal.
"Since you can't manage the duties of a proper housewife, let's see how you handle being a pet," Light murmured, his voice dropping to a dark, commanding register. "Come here. On your hands and knees."
Your face burned with intense shame, a fresh tear slipping down your cheek, but the sheer gravity of his command left you paralyzed to do anything but obey. You crawled forward slowly, your knees dragging across the carpet until you were resting right between his legs.
"Good girl," Light crooned, though his eyes were sharp, dark, and entirely unyielding. He reached down, his fingers tangling in your hair and gently pulling your head back so you had to look at him. "You look so right down there. Completely stripped of all those silly, useless thoughts. Now, if you're going to be my perfect little pet, you need to speak like one. Let me hear it."
You swallowed hard, your chest heaving, the degradation of the moment making your head spin. "Light, please..."
"That's not what a good dog says," he chided softly, his grip on your hair tightening just enough to send a shiver of submission down your spine. He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. "Tell me you're my mindless little pet. Whimper for me. Give me a nice, clear woof, sweetheart."
"W-Woof," you whispered, the sound entirely broken, choked with a pathetic sob as you pressed your face against his knee, completely shattered and entirely his.
Light let out a low, satisfied growl, his hand shifting from your hair to cup your cheek, his thumb dragging roughly over your wet lips. "Perfect. Just like that. No thoughts, no career, no worries. Just my beautiful, obedient little girl."
Written by: Kira
dividers by: @dollywons
[ NOTICE: Plagiarism of this data log will not be tolerated. However, inspiration is permitted provided explicit network credit is given. ]
A/n - This ones a bit too relatable... almost as if we're the same person.
